To love and be loved
by joiedevivre2011
Summary: Jane Rizzoli has always been Catholic and that seems to be a huge factor in her current predicament. (Rating T just to be safe.)


I apologize for my unexpected hiatus. I also apologize for anyone with author notifications for me that you aren't receiving updates for any of my other stories. I promise they are coming soon. I've started doubting my writing again, which leads to me not wanting to put anything on paper (my preferred method these days). I've had most of this written for a good while, and finally decided it was time to post it.  
Please leave your thoughts and comments, as this is outside of my normal R&I writing, I think.

Disclaimer: not mine!

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Jane Rizzoli sat quietly in a pew of the church she'd attended during her childhood and adolescence. It had been many years since she'd even set a toe inside this church other than at major holidays (mainly Easter and Christmas) and even longer since she'd been to confession.

Despite hardly subscribing to most beliefs and practices of the Catholic Church anymore, Jane had been raised Catholic and still considered herself as such (just perhaps one of the 'fallen' ones). But tradition was of utmost importance in the Rizzoli family, so Catholic they all, including Jane, remained.

But it was for this reason Jane found herself sitting in this pew, the wooden rosary beads from her confirmation as a teenager in her hands. She fingered the beads lightly, reverently, as she stared at some inexact spot in front of her, in the general direction of the pulpit. So lost in thought was she that she never even knew that the priest, a man she'd known all her life, had approached until he quietly slipped into the pew beside her.

"Jane Rizzoli. It's curious to see you here, as it is neither Christmas nor Easter. To what do I owe this little visit?" the man in black chuckled quietly.

Jane turned to the Father and smiled sadly. "I'm not sure. I just…something told me to come here. Call it instinct, a gut feeling even, I guess. But it's quiet, nice, and easier to think."

"Ah yes, of course, but you have your rosary beads, so did you come specifically to think about a matter regarding your faith?"

Glancing down at her hands and the beads in them, she contemplated how to answer. "I suppose. Maybe it's all relevant. I don't know."

The older man detected sorrow in the younger woman's voice. "My dear Jane, something is troubling you deeply. Tell me."

"Sometimes I wonder," Jane started slowly, "if I've made the right decisions in life. I mean, every one of them has certainly made me the person I am today, but I just – if I've made the best decisions for me, why do I feel like something is still missing?"

"Oh yes, it is easy to find ourselves on the road to self-doubt. Tell me, Jane. What exactly do you feel is missing?"

"I'm not sure, Father. I haven't put my finger on it yet, but deep down inside there's a longing for…_something_," she responded quietly.

"Sometimes the thing we are longing for is actually right in front of our eyes; we are simply not yet ready to see it."

"Hm. Maybe," was all Jane could reply.

The pair sat in silence for a moment or two before he spoke again.

"How is Maura doing?" he asked.

"What?" Jane replied, confused by the change in subject.

"Maura, the petite dark blonde who attends mass with your family at Christmas and Easter," he clarified. He watched as Jane's entire visage changed. It seemed more peaceful, happier. Jane even gave a small smile.

"Maura's good. We're both busy at work. Barely time to breathe, but I'm off duty today, which is why I'm even able to be here," she told him.

"That's wonderful. She's quite lovely and asks me some of the most insightful questions. It's most refreshing," he mused.

Jane chuckled, "Maura never stops thinking. Ever. She probably dreams the craziest stuff imaginable. And then wakes up and analyzes it."

The priest smiled at her. "What does she think about how you're feeling?"

Jane shrugged, but said nothing.

"Does she even know?"

Jane shrugged again and started twisting the rosary beads around her finger. The two fell into silence again.

The priest sighed. "I know a lot of things, Jane. See a lot. Hear a lot, too. The problem is, of course, sometimes I just know too much."

Jane turned her head sharply at that comment. "I'm sorry, what?" Before the priest could clarify his statement, Jane asked worriedly, "Has Maura talked to you or something?"

"My dear, even if she has, I shouldn't really tell you," he replied seriously. "Well, at least not what we discussed."

"So you have?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you haven't?"

"Didn't say that either," he smirked.

Jane growled lowly with frustration.

"I have eyes and ears. I pay attention, even though many ignore me because I'm old. I somehow end up knowing too much, Jane Clementine Rizzoli," he repeated. "Even things I don't necessarily want or need to know. Simply because it is part of my duty to observe the world around me." His voice had become even quieter, but there was gentleness in his voice still.

The raven-haired detective swallowed hard and looked away.

"It wasn't supposed to happen," Jane whispered so softly, the priest barely heard her despite being right next to her.

He could feel the guilt starting to radiate off Jane in waves, and he placed a hand over hers.

"We are all God's creatures, Jane. And despite what many in this world might say, I believe that God loves every single person He brings into this world. I think he could only hope for us to love and be loved in return."

"What?" Jane's head snapped up at this admission.

"I believe, dear Jane, that God's greatest hope for us is simply to love."

"Well, that certainly sounds like a new development," Jane quietly mused.

The priest patted her hand. He had a twinkle in his eye, almost. "How you interpret my words – His words – is entirely up to you," he then winked and stood up. "I must go. I'm afraid I have an appointment and I don't want to be late." He took Jane's hand, the one holding her rosary, between his and squeezed gently. "It was lovely to see you."

Jane smiled and nodded as he turned and walked away. Suddenly he stopped and looked back at her, "I think Maura might have some of the other answers you need. Go to her, dear Jane."

She sat there for a few minutes more, smiled, and then left the church as quietly as she'd entered. She drove around a while, biding her time, thinking some more. She went home and took a shower, put on a nicer pair of jeans and a light gray, thin sweater top.

When she pulled up at Maura's, Jane knew the other woman had only just returned home, as only the foyer light was on. She knocked softly on the door and Maura opened the door quickly.

"Jane," Maura breathed and smiled.

"I need to tell you something," Jane said gently with a smile.

Maura seemed to smile knowingly back at her. "Come in. I'll make us some hot cocoa."

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This story is really, truly complete. I wrote it as a one-shot about Jane's inner spiritual turmoil concerning her romantic feelings toward Maura. It isn't meant to be a segue into Rizzles smut, only a realization of sorts for Jane. It was also partially inspired by a scene from Loving Annabelle.


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